


What To Buy The Heather Who Has Everything

by WonderstruckSwan



Category: Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Post canon, brief mention of kurt and ram's deaths, i stayed up to 1am to write fanfic for a tiny crackship that only i care about
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-18 02:02:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20631254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WonderstruckSwan/pseuds/WonderstruckSwan
Summary: As Martha Dunnstock realises, dating a Heather has its unexpected downsides. Especially when said Heather is the richest girl in school, and it's her birthday, and you can't buy her the gift she deserves.What's a girl to do?





	What To Buy The Heather Who Has Everything

Martha Dunnstock’s life since the start of her senior year has been unusual to put it mildly. First there was her best (and only) friend joining the Heathers’ clique; and forging a note to trick her. Then there was her kindergarten boyfriend turning out to be gay. Then some more things she tries her best to block out, at least until she’s in the safety of her therapist’s office.

But nothing can prepare her for the fact that The Heather MacNamara is her girlfriend. That small hurricane in yellow she once spent her days cowering away from now walks her home, kisses her nose and calls her lovebug. They sit in Heather’s yellow bedroom, her parents downstairs in blissful ignorance, and talk about anything and everything. Never in her wildest dreams did she think Heather would be someone she would talk to about what scares her and keeps her awake at night.

Still, it’s a shock she can get used to; she thinks as Heather sits down at their lunch table. Not all surprises need to be bad.

“So,” Heather begins, bouncing on her sear. “I was thinking I might have a little get together at my house on Saturday. Are you guys free?”

“I am,” Martha agrees, their knees touching under the table.

“Well my only two friends are busy that night,” Veronica answers with a smirk. “What’s up buttercup?”

“Oh well, I was just thinking of having a small get together,” she explains. “Um, you know… for my birthday.”

Martha almost chokes on her pasta and Veronica’s eyes go wide. She feels her face going red as she tries to clear her throat and get some sort of sentence out.

“Your birthday’s on Saturday and you didn’t tell us?” Veronica asks.

“I just told you,” Heather tells her calmly.

“I mean, yeah… but I really don’t have time to get you a present,” Martha says.

“Oh I don’t need presents,” Heather says, shaking her head and making her blonde hair bounce. “I just want to hang out with you guys. And maybe a few girls from the cheer squad.” There’s one name suspiciously not mentioned and Martha shares a concerned look with Veronica. Heather Duke can be seen on her own, at a faraway table. Martha can’t help but feel bad; after all, she knows what it’s like to be alone at the table, but the sight of her also makes her want to wrap her Heather in a tight hug and never let her go. “So are you guys in?”

“Definitely.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Veronica adds.

“Yay!” Heather squeals. It’s those little moments that make Martha remember why she loves Heather. “Okay, I need to go to a cheer squad meet, but I’ll see you guys in study hall.” She drops a quick kiss on Martha’s cheek while Veronica pulls a face. “See you later, lovebug.”

“That girl is getting presents from us,” Veronica says as soon as Heather is out of an earshot, dipping a French fry into ketchup.

“Of course she is,” Martha agrees. She and Veronica share a grin with each other. No matter how many shocks there are in her life, there’s always, and she hopes always will be, Veronica.

*****

After school on Friday, Veronica and Martha take the bus into town rather than walking home, or in Martha’s case, waiting for her dad to collect her. The town centre, particularly the mall, is mostly a foreign place to Martha. Outside of the yearly trips down for school supplies, she rarely sets foot there, thanks to both her parent’s financial situation and her own lack of self-confidence (no doubt in part to her own special nickname “Dumptruck”. The posters of girls with slim hips and flat stomachs and the mannequins with their tiny waists make her feel more noticeable than usual as she hides in her pink sweater.

Veronica breezes through the place with ease. She may have toned down her Heathers-esque look after she stopped hanging out with them, trading the blue blazer for a denim jacket, but she still stalks through the mall and navigates in a way that seems vaguely reminiscent of Heather Chandler. As does the red scrunchie that stands out against her hair, holding the dark waves back off her face. But unlike Chandler, Veronica wields her power for good. And Martha can’t deny how nice it feels to simply be left alone, not left out but just left alone.

“Come on, let’s go in here,” Veronica says, pulling her into a brightly lit store with carefully constructed displays in the windows. “She loves it in here.”

They’re not in the store five minutes before Martha understands why. The store is everything Heather would love, right down to the plush white carpeting. The walls are dazzlingly white, glass shelves on one end holding small purses, similar shelves displaying necklaces and bracelets, racks of clothes separating them along the floor; short skirts and dainty jackets and crisp shirts. Everything Heather loves is in this store.

They’re put off the purses as soon as they see the price tags, which is a shame, because they both know Heather needs a new purse and she’d just adore one of those, especially the little sunshine yellow one with a golden kitten hanging off the handle. The image Martha has of her wide brown eyes and beaming bright smile as she holds it is physically painful.

They look through the clothes rails seems like a waste of time. Heather already either has everything in the store or a nicer version of it. She has even said to Martha herself that the last thing she needs is more clothes while Martha stood in the middle of her walk in wardrobe, lost in a sea of yellow fabric.

The jewellery stand is their last hope. It’s likely their safest bet; Martha thinks her girlfriend might be part crow with the way she loves anything shiny or sparkly. Or maybe it’s being the daughter of a man who sells shiny things for a living. But every time Heather is presented with something that sparkles or shines, Martha sees her melt. It’s adorable, really.

“Hey, look at this,” Veronica says, showing her a silver chain with a yellow heart dangling from it.

“That’s adorable! Veronica you have to get her that!”

“I will,” she says, placing the necklace in the palm of her hand and smiling at it. “What about you? See anything you’re getting her?”

“I don’t know,” she answers, scanning over the rail of jewellery. Everything is beautiful and so perfectly Heather, but also so expensive. Her pockets feel pitifully empty as she picks up pieces of jewellery only to set them down after seeing the price tag. The saddest part is that they aren’t even that expensive, just out of her own reach. She picks up a little silver ring with a stone in the middle that turns all different colours when it catches the light. It looks beautiful and it makes Martha smile just looking at it, but what would make her smile even more is that ring on Heather’s finger.

“That’s pretty,” Veronica remarks. “Really pretty.”

“Yeah,” she says, knowing what the little white label says before she looks at it. “Pretty expensive too.” She sets it back down on the display with a resigned sigh

“Hey.” Veronica brushes her hand against Martha’s, her voice low. “Look, I know you don’t like it, but if you want I can loan you some money to get Heather something.”

“No,” she sighs shaking her head. “I know you’re just being nice but… no, I can’t take your money.” Veronica stays quiet, but her fingers lace in between Martha’s as she nods gently. Martha looks around the shelf in a vein hope for something within her price range amongst the glittering mass before her. She’s about to give up entirely when something tucked away behind a pair of earrings catches her eye.

She picks up a small silver teddy bear, heavy in her palm. He holds a little bunch of balloons and smiles dreamily up at her, his little head cocked to one side. He’s sweet and he’s cute and she knows Heather will think so too. But there’s still a nagging sense of guilt as she takes out her purse.

She and Veronica leave the store with their purchases wrapped in pink tissue paper, put in little brown boxes and then into white bags, all at no extra cost.

“You know she’ll love that little bear,” Veronica tells her. “Even I love it. It’s cute and shiny. What more could Heather want?”

“I know,” Martha sighs. “It’s just that… well I wish I could just get her something special you know?” She shrugs, looking down at the bag. “She’s special to me. She deserves nicer presents.”

“Hey, it’s not about how much money you spend on her,” Veronica assures her. “She doesn’t give a shit about any of that shallow stuff.” Martha nods, an agreement on the tip of her tongue, when something catches her eye. Just as they’re walking out of the mall, they pass a bakery with its cakes on display in the window. Martha grinds to a halt as she looks at them; pale pink and blue icing with white piping around the edges, just small enough for one person to eat alone or two people to share. They’re in different shapes; some square, some heart shaped, some circles, but all with dainty piping and carefully iced. Some even have fondant flowers on the top, others have small silver balls or glitter over the top. A sign advertising personal messages for as little as a dollar sits in the window, telling people to make their cake special. An idea unfurls in her mind, a smile spreading across her face. “I know that look.”

“I have an idea,” Martha says. “And I kind of need your help.”

“I’m in.”

They go to the big grocery store opposite the mall, the one that sells everything you could need at a price you can afford. Veronica lets Martha lead her into the baking aisle, a knowing smile crossing her face as she works out what she’s planning. She drops the carton of eggs and bag of sugar into the basket and Veronica stretches up and manages to grab a bag of flour off the top shelf. True, it comes close to flattening them, but that only makes them laugh.

“Are you sure you don’t need anything else?” Veronica asks as they stand outside Martha’s house.

“I’m sure,” she says. “I want to do this myself.”

“She’s going to love it,” she tells her.

“Hopefully. If I can do it right.”

“And you will,” Veronica says firmly, placing her hands on her shoulders. “You will nail this, and she will love it.” Martha chuckles; with Veronica’s wide, determined eyes, her set yet soft smile and her strong voice, Martha almost believes her herself.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she says. Veronica nods and wraps her in a hug. Lately she’s been hugging her tighter than ever; she would almost say she’s holding on for dear life, letting out shaky breaths against her and whispering “I love you” against her shoulder. Martha can’t judge, because it’s what she does too.

When Martha goes into her kitchen, there’s a hasty note from her mom telling her that she’s gone to work, that her dad is still at work and that there’s burgers in the freezer if she wants dinner. She looks around her empty kitchen; the slightly stained brown tiles, the grey countertop, the small green oven. The clock’s ticking echoes off the walls, decorated with cream wallpaper covered in blue flowers. Martha’s well used to the sound and feeling of being home alone; Veronica can only come over so many times, and for a while she didn’t.

She shakes her head and begins unpacking the bag. Of course, her parents being away right now has a big advantage; baking in peace. She wanders over to the cabinet and pulls out the green hardbacked book containing every recipe her grandmother wrote down. And there’s a lot, but the one she needs is the easiest to find, marked with a leather bookmark. She takes the bowls, tins and spoons she needs out of the cupboards and onto the countertop, thankful her family is too sentimental to throw any of this out. She gives the recipe another read-over, double and triple checking she has everything. Then she opens the flour and lets the baking take over.

When Martha goes around to Heather’s house, it’s Mrs MacNamara who opens the door. Heather’s mom doesn’t look like her mom, in fact, she doesn’t look like a mom at all. Her bleached blonde hair curls just above her shoulders and she wears pink lipstick even when she’s not going out. Her white trousers hug her slim body and her fluffy white jumper shows off her collar bone.

“Oh, Heather?” she calls into the house. “It’s your friend Mary!”

“Mom, it’s Martha!” Heather calls from upstairs.

“Sorry, sweetie,” Mrs MacNamara says absent mindedly, already wandering into the living room.

“It’s fine,” she replies in a quiet voice, knowing she didn’t hear her. Upstairs, she hears Heather’s heels clicking against the floor and she comes into view at the top of the stairs, rushing down to meet her.

“Hi,” she says, slightly breathless but still with a wide smile that makes Martha’s insides meld.

“Hey,” she replies. Heather goes to take her hand, only to find them full holding a cardboard box wrapped in yellow paper. She settles for taking her arm and leading her into the kitchen, closing the door gently behind them.

“Martha, I told you, I don’t want any presents.”

“I know,” she begins. “But you’re too important to me to not get you something. Especially for your 18th birthday.” Touched, Heather kisses her cheek, making it go pink. “Come on, open it. I’m dying to see what you think.” Terrified is probably a more accurate term, but she doesn’t tell her that. She holds her breath as Heather carefully peels off the wrapping paper, fights the urge to bite her nails as she lifts the lid off. When she does, her mouth falls into a little ‘o’ shape and Martha hears her gasp just a little. “Do you like it?”

It’s small, as cakes go. If she grabbed a couple of forks they could demolish it in a few minutes. And simple enough, two layers or sponge with raspberry jam and fresh cream between them. She covered it in yellow fondant, knowing from experience it’s easier than icing, and then piped Happy Birthday Heather in white on the top. For an added touch, she added some white piping around the edges, using a picture from her grandma’s book as a guide, and then stuck the bear from the jewellery store on the top.

“You got me a cake?” she asks, her voice small. From the look of her, she’s still processing it, unsure of what to feel.

“Yeah. It was my grandma’s recipe-”

“You made me a cake?” She looks up from the cake to Martha, her mouth still hanging open. Martha feels her heart crush in her chest. Of course a girl like Heather isn't going to expect stupid home made gifts made from 70 year old recipes. Maybe she doesn't like cake at all.

“You don’t like it,” she groans. “I’m sorry, I wanted to buy you something nice but money’s pretty tight right now and I didn’t know what type of cake you-”

She finds herself cut off when Heather’s lips touch hers, her hands wrapping around her neck. Martha is frozen for just a minute but kisses her back, revelling in how gentle and soft her lips are-as sweet as Heather herself. Heather’s hand cups her cheek as they pull apart, their noses still touching.

“That was a really nice way of telling me to shut up,” Martha whispers. “So you like it?”

“Like it?” Heather echoes. “You made me a cake. For my birthday. No one’s ever made me things and it’s so pretty and it’s perfect! You’re perfect!” It’s Martha’s turn to kiss her, her lips pecking at Heather’s, her girlfriend’s lip gloss smearing over her lips. “Thank you, lovebug.”

“Happy birthday, Heather,” she says softly. “Though the teddy isn’t edible.” Heather throws back her head and laughs, still wrapped in Martha’s arms.

“How did I get so lucky to have you?” she asks. “Come on, let me get two forks. Or should we get three and leave Veronica a piece?”

Martha smiles as she watches Heather getting out some forks, chatting away to her. They dig into the cake together, Heather ending up with icing on her nose and cream on her chin, which she lets Martha kiss off. Heather gushes over the little teddy too, making him talk in funny voice to Martha and kiss her nose. Yeah, some surprises can be really, really good ones.

**Author's Note:**

> I stayed up to 1am to write pointless fanfiction for a ship that only I ship.  
Leave me comments and kudos so I feel validated (and less alone on this ship)?


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